


The Knight Bus Collection

by siriuslywinchester



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Harry Potter References, Knight Bus, Leaky Cauldron
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-21
Updated: 2015-01-30
Packaged: 2018-03-08 09:38:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3204527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/siriuslywinchester/pseuds/siriuslywinchester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stan Shunpike has just graduated from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and finds himself back in the East End of London with no real qualifications. Having smoked and drunk he way through any wealth he did have he realises he needs to find himself a career.</p><p>After wandering the streets of London and searching the Daily Prophet for jobs, Stan is surprised to find that a chance encounter in The Leaky Cauldron leads to a whole new adventure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Future Looks Brighter

Stan trudged through the murky streets of London with no real destination in mind. His hands were stuffed into his jacket pockets and his hood covered his head. His eyes were focused on the pavement before him, lost in thought. He had a cigarette clamped between his lips, taking slow draws as he breathed in. He was a tall, lanky lad in his late teens, dressed in tight black jeans, black boots with a silver buckle and a white 'Nirvana' t-shirt to blend in with the muggles. He'd recently graduated from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry with a grand total of zero N.E.W.T.S and had no idea what he wanted to do with the rest of his life. On the one hand he needed no qualifications to work for his father - a con man who sold useless potions to unsuspecting muggles - but on the other he wanted to better himself and get as far away as possible from his family. 

He had been born into a family of typical East Londoners. His father tricked Muggles into believing his potions could cure all sorts of different problems, when in actual fact he just filled bottles with water and added some household herbs. His mother read people’s fortunes in the kitchen of the family home - or rather pretend to. She was particularly adept with the Confundus Charm and so all of her customers went away convinced they could see fully into their future when in fact they had been in the room less than five minutes. His older brothers both worked as porters in the Leaky Cauldron and complained non-stop about what a rum deal they had been given.

Dropping the butt of his cigarette to the floor and squashing it beneath his shoe, Stan slipped through an almost invisible doorway into a warm, cosy pub. The landlord, Tom, looked up from his newspaper and waved Stan over to the bar. The room was empty with the exception of an older gentleman with thick-rimmed glasses nursing a Firewhiskey in the far corner.

"Your usual, Stanley?" Tom asked, pulling a tankard from the shelf above the bar and setting it down below one of the many taps. Stan had barely nodded before warm Butterbeer spurted from the pipe and filled the glass. Dragging a stool towards a table Stan sat down and placed his head in his left hand, pulling a battered copy of the Daily Prophet from his pocket and flicking through to the jobs section. Absentmindedly his right hand sliced through the foam on the top of his drink and he licked it from his fingers. 

Stan could not read well. It was one of the reasons he had struggled so much at Hogwarts. He'd never really bothered with learning before he'd attended the Wizarding School and his parents had been too busy with their scams to teach him how to read. He had spent most of his time wandering the streets of London begging or thieving to earn a bit of money. People at Hogwarts had mocked him for being so stupid but he'd made a small fortune for himself slowly stealing the possessions or purses of those that teased him. He had slowly smoked the money away though and was now in need of a job. Preferably something honest. Something he could make a career out of. Make a name for himself.

He ran a long, grubby finger along the words of a smart looking advert, forming his mouth around the letters as he read. "Ah..Ahc...Ahccow...urgh." He skipped the advert, moving his finger down the page to the next. "Puh...Por...Porter... Urgh not likely." Stan slumped backwards and leaned against the wall, folding his arms across his chest. There were never any fun jobs available. Or at least none that he'd managed to read, anyway. The elderly man across the room looked up. His face was almost owl-like, his eyes magnified by his thick glasses. He raised his hand and beckoned Stan to join him by curling a finger.

Gripping his flagon, Stan tucked the Daily Prophet under his arms and dragged his feet across the room towards to the strange man. He scraped a stool loudly across the floor and sat down heavily at the opposite side of the table. 

 

“You looking for a job, boy?” The man peered over the top of his glasses, his eyes examining Stan’s pimpled face.

“Yer, I guess so,” Stan shrugged, looking at his fingernails. “Gotta be sumfin’ good though. Respectable type, ya know?”

The man nodded and swilled his Firewhiskey around in the glass before quickly downing it and tapping the glass on the table for Tom to pour him another. He pushed his hand inside his waistcoat and pulled out a piece of parchment and slid it across the table toward Stan.  
“What would you say to this?”

Stan picked up the parchment and saw three large purple words across the top. “The Knight Bus.” Squinting at the writing below, he struggled to make out what the words said. Frustrated, he puffed out his cheeks and looked at the old man.

“Wos this all abou’ then, eh?” 

If it was possible, the mans eyes bulged even wider in surprise. He placed his arms on the table and clasped his hands together. “Surely you’ve heard of the Knight Bus?”

Stan shook his head and waited for an explanation.

“Well, obviously it’s a bus. A special bus, for stranded individuals of the Wizarding community,” he paused, letting Stan take in this new information. “I’m Ernie, the driver, and I’m looking for a new conductor. General stuff really, taking fares, helping people on and off the bus, serving tea, keeping them entertained. Nothing to it really, beside a chatty demeanour. Oh, and a strong stomach.”

“...Okay, and you want me ter conduct the bus?” Stan looked incredulously into Ernie’s eyes. He had no trouble chatting. He liked gossip, it helped him keep up with the world without the need to read. Maybe this would be his way out of London. This could be the job for him.

Ernie nodded and knocked back another Firewhiskey, snatching the bottle from Tom’s hand when he came to refill it. “Nobody else wants to do it, no idea why. Good pay, warm office though. Get to see the world while you work!”

Stan was sold. Seeing the world? He could get as far away from London as he liked. He could escape his family and their reputation in the Wizarding world. He could make a name for himself. “‘Ere, Ern. I think I might take yer on, there”. 

Ernie threw back another Firewhiskey and motioned for Tom to bring another glass. Pouring two overflowing shots, he handed Stan a glass. “Well then I think we should drink to a future partnership, boy. We’ll start your training when we sober up.” 

They clinked glasses and poured their shots down their throats, grimacing as the heat slid down their throats. Stan couldn’t help but think this was going to be a job he’d thoroughly enjoy.


	2. The Wizards on the Bus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stan wakes up in the Leaky Cauldron after a heavy session of drinking with his new boss Ernie Prang. After a hearty breakfast, which brings him back to life a little, he sets off down Diagon Alley to discover his new home and place of employment - The Knight Bus.
> 
> After a quick tour, Stan tries on his uniform, has a quick chance to familiarise himself with the tools of his new trade and is good to go - or so Ernie thinks!

Somebody was pounding on Stan's door. Or were they pounding on his head? He wasn't sure. It was painful, either way. He opened his eyes. Daylight flooded through the curtains of an unfamiliar room and stabbed into his pupils. He snapped his eyes back shut and lay his head back on the pillow, groaning. How much had Ernie made him drink last night? The pounding started again. It was definitely the door this time. "C'min," Stan croaked. The door was flung open and smashed into the wall. He grimaced.

Stan recognised his brother in the doorway. Dressed all in black with a white pinafore over his trousers, he carried a tray containing a steaming tea pot and a plate full of hot, fatty foods. The smell of bacon and sausages drifted over to the bed and tickled Stan senses.  
"Breakfast is served, yer bloody lazy git," his brother said, dropping the tray heavily onto the bedside table. "Ernie's lookin' for yer. Better 'urry up." 

Sitting up in the bed Stan found pieces of the night before falling back into place in his memory. He'd drunk a lot of Firewhiskey with a funny, old man in the bar who had offered him a job on the... a bus, or something. His brother sat down on the end of the bed. "So what is it ol' Ernie's got yer doing, then? You off with 'im on that bus 'e drives?"

Stan nodded, shoveling bacon and beans into his mouth between sips of tea. He would rather his brother knew as little as possible about the job so his family wouldn't try to follow him. His brother stood up and eyed him suspiciously. As he opened the door to leave he warned, "'Ere Stan don't be getting inter no funny business, will yer. Ah get enuff stick 'cuza Mam 'n' Dad as it is," and with that he was gone.

After downing the mug of warm tea Stan slipped out of bed and discovered he was still fully dressed, except for his boots which had been thrown on the floor. He looked at his reflection in the full length mirror and saw a very bedraggled looking young man staring back at him. There was little he could do about his appearance but he ran his fingers through his hair anyway, hoping to tame it a little. The mirror 'tutted' at him as he sat back on the bed to pull his boots on. He gave it a sullen look. "Don' you start. You try lookin' good after a night of Firewhiskeys ter celebrate yer new job!"

Feeling a little better after the breakfast his brother had provided him, he headed down to the bar and found Ernie reading the newspaper, a half empty bottle of Firewhiskey beside him.   
"Hair of the dog, boy?" he asked, tipping the bottle toward Stan and peering over the top of his glass.

"No thanks, Ern. Better ter keep a clear 'ead if I'm gonna remember all the stuff for this job, eh?"

"Ah, the job. Yes, yes. Let's be off then," and quick as a flash Ernie was on his feet and tottering out into the Leaky Cauldron's garden. Stan raced after him and together they stepped through the opening in the wall to Diagon Alley.

The two men walked side by side up the cobbled street towards Gringotts Bank, but rather than going inside the building Ernie led Stan down a thin passageway that he'd never noticed before. The alleyway looked to go on forever, the light at the far end seemed miles away, but after a few steps the pair magically emerged into daylight and what appeared to be a gigantic parking lot.

"There she is," Ernie grinned, pointing across to the largest vehicle in the area. 

Stan couldn't believe his eyes. A huge purple bus with three decks towered over the other cars and vans. He recognised it as AEC Regent III RT, like the London buses he'd grown up riding around on, with boarding points at the back and front. It was sparkling clean and seemed to glitter as the morning sunlight hit its surface, reflecting purple light onto the walls of the lot. In big gold letters across the side it read ‘The Knight Bus’. As the men approached the bus seemed to sense it’s owner and began quivering with excitement like a dog. The front doors sprang open waiting for them to embark.

"'Ere Ern, how'd you get that parked in 'ere?" Stan questioned, noticing that the entrance to the car park was only a few inches taller than his head. "No way d’you get that in through them doors!"

Ernie grinned and tapped his nose. "I'm not giving away my trade secrets until I've seen whether you've got what it takes to be my conductor!"

Stepping onto the bus and rubbing his hands together Ernie said "Right, time for a quick tour!" He pointed towards the drivers seat. "This is my seat. Under no circumstances are you to drive the bus. Unless I train you, of course, but that's unlikely." He headed down to the inside of the bus and spun on his heels to face Stan. "This is the rest of the bus. This is where you will work. All three floors are the same, five beds on the top two decks, four on this one. Tea and coffee making facilities are up there - you know how to make tea, right?" He pointed to a tiny kitchen area towards the back of the bus and Stan nodded in reply. "And magazines and newspapers get restocked down there." He pointed to a table just behind the drivers seat that was full of Quibblers and Daily Prophets. “Any questions?"

Stan looked at him bewildered. "Beds?!" Looking around him, Stan saw four antique four poster beds, each with a bedside table and a night light. The kitchen area housed a kettle and a selection of tea cups. A small refrigerator underneath the sideboard presumably contained milk and snacks.

"Yes, boy. For people to sleep on! Follow me." 

Ernie headed up the spiral staircase past the first floor and up to the top deck. Stan noticed the same arrangement on each floor as he passed, but the top deck had a slight difference. One of the beds had Stan's name on a plaque beside it. A shiny golden plaque. Stan nearly burst with pride. His own plaque! Laid out on the bed was a greying suit. It had obviously been the same purple as the bus at some point, but time and wear and had gotten the better of it. On top of the clothing was a conductors hat, a ticket machine and a money purse that was attached to a belt.

"Well... Try it on lad. I won't look," Ernie said, taking his glasses off. 

Stan quickly changed into the uniform and checked his reflection in the bus windows. He looked smart enough. A little silly with the hat but he could get used to it if it meant he earned a few bob and got away from home.

"How'd I look then, Ern?" he asked.

Ernie replaced his glasses and grinned. "Perfect, lad. Now, the buttons on the machine are pretty obvious and tell you what you need to charge. There's a card in your jacket pocket with the spiel you need to say when we pick a customer up. It's alright, I wrote it phonetically," he added quickly. Stan pulled the card out of his pocket and realised that the words were meaningless, but when the sounds were made it turned into perfect English.

"'Ere, Ern! That's brilliant!" he grinned, pleased he'd actually managed to read something quickly. He looked at the machine which had three buttons with pictures on. One was clearly an adult, another a child, and another a cup with steam coming from it. "So... adult, child and hot drink buttons, right Ern?"

"That's correct! So, all you've got to do is greet the customers politely, ask where they want to go, show them to a bed, offer them a hot beverage and Bob's your Uncle!" Ernie smiled encouragingly and headed for the stairs. "Shall we get going then?"


End file.
